The path we are pursuing is not the regular one; it is a short cut through the wood.

At its widest it is very narrow; and, a little ahead of us, a bramble has thrown a strong arm right across it, making a thorny arch, and forbidding passage.

By a quick movement, Mr.Musgrave gets in advance of me, and, turning round, faces me at this defile.
"What _has_ happened ?" Still I remain stubbornly silent.
"We are not going to fight, at this time of day, such old friends as we are ?" The red-anger light has died out of his eyes.

They look softer, and yet less languid, than I have ever seen them before; and there is subdued appeal and entreaty in his lowered voice.

At the present moment, I distinctly dislike him.